Whose Belt Is It Anyway?
by Hatteress
Summary: EPIC spoilers for the promo for 6.07 - Family Matters. There's a belt. It's not around someone's waist. So whose is it? These are my very Dean/Cas tainted ideas for each of the three possibilities. Rated for language.


_**AN:** So this came about from the promo to ep. 7. So yes **SPOILERS** people!_

_Okay?_

_Okay._

_Yeah you all know the part. Sam's got a belt in his mouth while Cas does his soul-feel-y thing and every fangirl in existence NEEDED to know whose damn belt it was. These are my very, very Dean/Cas tainted ideas of each of the three possibilities._

_And yes, this of course was before the preview clip that showed us whose belt it was but dammit, I like my versions better :P_

_Points go out to my girl Poisongirll who has become my everyday, real-life encouragement engine for anything Supernatural, Dean/Cas and fanfic in general xx_

_**Disclaimer:** The boys/show aren't mine. Though I'd pay good money for that belt ;P_

* * *

**Sam's**

If there was one thing Dean never, ever wanted to walk in on it was the sight of his brother undoing his belt with a cool efficiency while Cas shrugged off his jacket and started unbuttoning the cuffs of his crisp, white sleeves.

"Whoa!" he cried, screeching to a halt in the door. "Dude, what the hell?"

Cas for his part paused, cocking his head in askance and Dean tried very hard not to find it even slightly affecting. He failed. Utterly. For some stupid reason his brain seemed to have gone off the deep end about Cas ever since the angel had reappeared, whiskey bottle on offer and a soft promise to help him find out what was wrong with his brother.

Call it what you will - misplaced gratitude - whatever, but there was just something about Cas lately that settled somewhere low in his belly. Which was probably why walking in on the angel and his brother shedding clothing was a slightly unpleasant stab to that same general area.

Of course then Sam took one look between them and rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake," he huffed. Then he jammed his newly shucked belt into his mouth and plonked himself down in Bobby's old desk chair, hands already gripping the sides in preparation for the pain to come.

Dean blinked. Oh. Well, yes - that made sense.

Dean cleared his throat. And it wasn't awkwardly at all. Damnit.

* * *

**Cas's**

Dean had seen a lot of funny shit in his life, but watching Cas wrestling with his own damn belt-buckle had to take the cake.

"For the love of Heaven!" Cas huffed, fingers slipping once more from the catch. Dean jammed his fist harder into his mouth, body shaking in an effort to keep in the laughter. It obviously didn't work because Cas suddenly raised his eyes - fixing him with a glare that might have worked if Dean hadn't been witness to it's hilarious cause.

"You are amused by this?" the angel growled and Dean lost it. Before he knew it he was bent double, tears streaming down his face, he was laughing so hard. And damn but if it didn't feel freaking WONDERFUL. God, he hadn't realised 'til now just how much he'd missed Cas's infallible tendency to make him forget about the fucked up state his life was in for a moment and just lose himself in laughter.

The moment passed all too quickly and, sucking in great efforts of air, he waved Cas forward - ignoring Sam's patented bitch-face as his brother waited, tied to a chair in the corner for Cas to do his thing. "C'mere," he chuckled, tugging at the lapels of Cas's coat so that the buckle was in reach. It was only when his fingers touched cool metal that he realised what he was doing.

Because fuck. This certainly wasn't the same damn thing as fixing the angel's tie.

Dean glanced up to Cas's face and instantly regretted it.

Because Cas wasn't looking at him. He was looking down at Dean's hands on his buckle like they were the most fascinating things in the world. That in itself was bad enough but then the kicker came when the angel actually freaking _bit_ his damn lip – something freaking angels of the Lord were _not_ supposed to do - blue gaze sliding up as he did until Dean suddenly couldn't breathe under the weight of one fucking blaze of a stare.

Jesus _Christ_...

The moment stretched thin as a wire. Then Sam cleared his throat. "Um...s'cuse me? Still possibly evil over here."

Reality came crashing back like a sack of bricks to the back of Dean's head and he coughed - loudly - the tension shattering into a million stupidly awkward pieces.

Cas for his part just kept staring at him - like he was trying to read fine print on his damn soul or some such shit.

And Dean would never know where the hell he sucked up the courage to actually undo the damn belt after all that but he did - pulling it through the loops of Cas's slacks with a soft slide that made him swallow around a suddenly dry mouth.

Man. And he thought there was something fucking wrong with _SAM_.

* * *

**Dean's.**

Dean was straight. Except when he wasn't. Which unfortunately tended to be when he was around Cas of late. Sheriff of Heaven, angel of the Lord and apparently capable of making Dean's heart tap double-time whenever he was in a ten foot radius.

Like Dean's life wasn't complicated enough.

Then of course his brother had to go and get all _wrong_ and Cas, being Cas, was the only one who could find out why. Which would have been fine but for one thing.

"Take off your belt," Cas ordered, voice it's usual low growl and Dean couldn't have stopped his pulse jumping at the inflection if he'd tried.

"Excuse me?" he asked, wrestling his voice into something vaguely incredulous. Incredulousness was believable after all. Eagerness – yeah, notsomuch.

"Your belt," Cas repeated, gaze ticking up to fix him with a sudden flash of blue as he continued unbuttoning his cuffs. "Take it off."

And so what if Dean was filing this particular picture away in his brain for later? He was only freaking human.

Clearing his throat he tried for nonchalant with a dash of sarcasm. "Really? You haven't even bought me dinner yet," he smirked.

In retrospect he really should have known better. Cas was notoriously literal after all.

The angel huffed – like Dean was the most frustrating being in creation or something – before he stepped forward, suddenly very, _very_ close. Body-warmth-seeping-through-clothing sort of close. Dean sucked in a hurried breath and froze as Cas's hands went to his belt, nimble fingers making quick work of the buckle.

"I'll buy you dinner later," Cas said with all his usual stoic seriousness. And then he just freaking _ripped _the belt right out of the loops, a force behind it that had Dean staggering slightly.

Fucking _hell_...

And as Cas strode towards the basement stairs Dean didn't know what was worse – that he was undeniably, painfully hard or that he'd just inadvertently made a freaking _date_ with Castiel, angel of the Lord.


End file.
